Bright Spots in the Darkness
by Killing Frost
Summary: This is sort of a cockammamey fic, right now. I'm working on getting it going, slowly but surely. Deals with Morgan's mother's side of the family. *UPDATED*
1. Flee

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Family Reunion: What A Bitch   
  
  
  
Chapter 1   
  
  
  
By: Killing Frost   
  
  
AAN: Oh my God...I am going to hurt someone. I am so pissed. FanFiction dot net deleted this story just because it had the word 'bitch' in the title. Grr... What a way to piss off an already pissed off user.   
  
  
AN: Okay, I know this was posted under the pen name IceQueen, at first, who then changed into Kiana Darkk. Kiana Darkk still exists, this is just another pen name owned by me. I intend to start writing and updating more on this fic, so I'm reposting it. It has also been re-vamped.   
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Sweep or any of the characters, settings, or... anything else. Except I own my characters, and the plot. Have fun reading!   
  
  
  


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~Past~ *Maeve's POV*   
  
  
  
There it was! That noise again! God, I'd been hearing it every night for the past week! It was driving me mad! Mad, I tell you, simply insane! Every night it started up around eleven thirty, and ended near midnight. Then it would start up again around four in the morning, and end near four thirty.   
  
  
  
The only thing directly above me was the third floor attic/bedroom. Well only half was a bedroom. My sister, Meriel, resided there. It was a wonderful room. I couldn't wait until she moved out, then it would be my room. However, that's not relevant. Anyway, the noise. I couldn't figure out what it was. I decided that tomorrow morning I would ask my sister directly.   
  
  
  
Finally the quiet, insistent creaking stopped, and I was left in silence and stillness. Mother and Father had already long since been in bed. I usually would be too, but I'm a very light sleeper and even the slightest noise will disturb me. I felt my eyelids drooping, and finally sleep claimed me. My dreams were dark and intense, filled with images that I can no longer remember.   
  
  
  
In the morning sunlight bore into my face, I groaned and rolled over, pulling my pillow over my face. God, I hated mornings! There was a light tap at my door, then someone entered, and I knew from her vibrations that it was Meriel.   
  
  
  
I turned my head slightly to look at my sister-my dear sister who looked very like me, but was so opposite of me. I was calm and collected, Belwicket's heir, Mathair's successor, and everybody's "little princess." That's what Meriel always called me. She'd say, "How's Belwicket's little princess this fine, sunny day?" or "Aw, you mean the little princess couldn't figure it out?" The second only occurs when I try to use water magick or do spells relating to it. Water is dead to me, fire reigns supreme.   
  
  
  
Meriel was wild and untameable, the village "Carmen." She was nobody's successor, nobody's heir despite the fact that she was my equal in strength. Our parents pretty much ignored her, except when they felt the need to point out another of her mistakes, and there was a long list of them. The village men called her a harlot, or a black widow depending on who was talking. Some just called her Meriel, those were the ones that would flirt and tease with her, the ones Meriel liked to play with.   
  
  
  
We looked alike. We both had deep auburn hair, worn long, mine to my waist, hers to her knees. "Skin like snow," was my sister's favorite quote from Snow White. She said it described us. Whereas I had some freckles, she didn't. She really looked like snow.My eyes are green. Hers are neon blue. My father used to tell us our smiles would light up the room. My smile hasn't changed much, but Meriel's has. Where it used to be pure and golden, it was now filled with whatever emotion she manufactured, unless of course you managed to get a real smile, in which case it was filled with cynicism and doubt and ambition.   
  
  
  
"Hey, breakfast is ready," Meriel says and sits down on my bed. She's already showered and dressed, done up to perfection, ready to make her mark on the world. I got up and started picking out clothes to wear today. Halfway through I remembered what I wanted to talk to Meriel about.   
  
  
  
"Sis?"   
  
  
  
"Hm?" Her eyes look far off as she gazes out my window at the tree-filled backyard.   
  
  
  
I take a deep breath, gather up my courage, and take the plunge. "For the past few nights I've been hearing noises up in your room. It's hard for me to sleep. What's going on?"   
  
  
  
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up. It's just that...well...I met a man."   
  
  
  
She was sneaking out of the house to meet some guy? Oh Goddess, mother was going to have my head if she ever found out.   
  
  
"What's his name?" I found myself asking. I admited, I was curious.   
  
  
  
"...His name is..Aiden. Aiden Deorain.You know, the traveler." She told me hesitantly. Then with a giggle she began again. "Oh Maeve, he's amazing. I've never felt this way before, about anyone! He just..oh, he makes me feel like I could really do something with my life! Instead of just sitting here and rotting, all my power going to waste in this stupid village! I think I'm in love!"   
  
  
  
She threw herself back on my bed, hands covering her blushing, smiling face. While I was left with my mouth hanging agape, in total shock. I literally thought I was going to pass out. Did she know anything about this man? Did she know that he was being observed closely by mother and the other coven members? Of course she didn't...She rarely came to circles with us, never spoke with mother or heard a word she was saying, and never worked magick with anyone but me.   
  
  
  
  
This man, whether she admitted iÍ_ _»«t or not, was a stranger. An outsider. He was a potentially dangerous witch. Well, all witches are potentially dangerous, but this one even more so because we didn't know him.   
  
  
  
After Meriel stopped blushing she got up, told me that I should hurry up, and left.   
  
  
  
I went about my day like I always did, going to school, doing homework, practicing magick, and then going to bed. Tonight there were no noises, so I slept fine. When I woke up in the morning it was bright again outside. I heard talking, rapid, fast talking, in urgent, hushed voices. I got up immediately in only my nightgown and went out into the living room to see mother and father talking. They looked at me with wide eyes.   
  
  
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What's the matter?" I asked it without thinking. My moÿther looked away guiltily, my father stared at the floor, and both remained silent. "What's wrong??" I very nearly yelled. Finally someone answered. "Meriel..." My mother began. "Meriel what?! What did she do this time?!" They were always doing this! Making such a big deal of things! "Meriel's gone," My father finished quietly. "Gone? What do you mean she's gone?!"   
  
  
  
My mother seemed to visibly collect herself, shake off her sadness, and looked straight at me. "We mean she took some clothes and left late last night. Covered her tracks real well." I did not believe it. They could not be telling me this. "Are you saying...?" I couldn't believe it. I simply couldn't. My father cleared his throat. Both us women looked at him expectantly. "Aiden O' Deorain left last night too."   
  
  
  
I suddenly knew clear as day that my sister, my impulsive, impetuous, wild sibling, had run off with a man she barely knew. A man who was suspected of using dark magick.   
  
  


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AN: What did you think? I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can. I'm working on it. It'll be good. Please, REVIEW! The reason I rewrote this story was because I think it's a great fic, but hardly anybody read it consistently.   
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Fight

Family Reunion: What A Bitch  
Chapter 2  
By: Killing Frost  
  
AN: In regards to a certain review I received, sorry if I confused you in the first chapter. Maeve was not hearing Meriel and Aiden screwing late a night. The creaking noise was Meriel getting ready to go, and then coming back in the early morning. This chapter will also be in the past. I have a few things to write in various points of time before I can get to the *actual* reunion. Yes, apologies all around. Just bear with me, please. These chapters are a very key element to the story, so read them. They help explain a bit about the characters I'm introducing.   
  
Disclaimer: Usual ones apply.   
  
Time: 9 Years Later  
  
Ages: Meriel (MARE e UL)-26  
Aiden (AY den)-27  
Liam (LEE um)-8  
Blaine (BLAYNE)-6  
Mealla (MYAL a)-5  
  
Place: Somewhere in Northern Ireland  


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*Meriel's POV*   
  
We were at it again. Cursing and screaming at each other at the top of our lungs. I didn't like fighting in front of the kids. I've tried to tell Aiden time and time again that we should argue outside. He hated being told what to do, so he just ignored it, and went ahead doing whatever he felt like.   
  
The children were standing right there. Liam and Blains were hiding behind me, because they were about to go outside and play when the fight started. Mealla was left sitting on the steps behind her father, looking at us with wide, innocent eyes. I really didn't want to expose them to this level of animosity.   
  
"You know what Aiden? Fuck you! Fuck this house, fuck this life, and fuck your damn magick too! I'm done!!" I finally yelled.   
  
"Fine, then get OUT! I don't want you here! Leave, you stupid whore!" He was nearly shaking with rage, his fists clenched, breath coming in and out quickly. His face was red from all the screaming, and the veins in his neck were about to jump out and dance around I think.   
  
Looking at him, so lost, so pathetically enslaved to his own power, I forgot why I had loved him, why I had any obligation to stay with this stranger. My anger dissipated, and I was left with an icy calm, knowing what I had to do.   
  
"Fine, but I'm taking the children with me. Liam, Blaine, get in the car." I handed over my keys to Liam, and told him to lock the doors once he and his brother got in. Both of my boys ran out the door, slamming it behind them. Only when they were gone did I dare to look at Aiden's face. It was contorted with fury, and that unshakeable determination was in his eyes. I knew then that I would never take Mealla without a fight.   
  
Now, in a verbal fight, I could do just fine. Physical? I'd still have a chance. Magickal? I was a dead woman walking. Aiden had gone through the Great Trial, and was far more powerful than I. I would never survive it. He'd kill me, and have all of my children instead of just one.   
  
Still, I had to try. I began walking towards Mealla, or Mell as some had nicknamed her. I felt Aiden start to call power, and initiated my own to come to my aid. Mell stood up and held her hand out to me. Then Aiden began chanting.   
  
"Clathna berrin, ne ith rah. Clathna ter, ne fearth ullna stath. Morach bis, mea cern, cern mea. Clathna berrin, ne ith rah!" I knew the chant. It was one I had personally taught him. I knew that it was powerful, and with his power backing it I couldn't undo it. I saw my daughter fall to her knees on the bottom of the stairs, watched her eyes fill with fear and a knowledge. He had bound her. He had bound his own child.   
  
"Go," She whispered just before the spell bound her completely.   
  
I backed off, looked at him, and said three words. "This isn't over." Then I took off like a rocket, left my only daughter in the hands of a dark, evil man, and saved my two sons from the same fate. I didn't know where I was going, but at that moment I just didn't care.   


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AN: That's it for now. I didn't want to switch POV's in the middle of a chapter, and fast forward the time. That would be just too confusing for you and for me. (Me, mostly.) I hope you liked it. Notice I kept with the "M" name tradition for the girls? Yay, uno round of applause for moi, gracias. Please review. The next chapter should be out soon.   
  
  



	3. Betrayal

Family Reunion: What A Bitch  
Chapter 3  
By: Killing Frost  
  
AN: The last chapter was kind of short, I know, but this time I'm going to try making it longer. It's still in the past, only not so far back. We're basically going to be following Mealla in this part, and seeing things through her eyes, so enjoy.   
  
P.S.- In regards to a certain review the answer to your question is Aiden didn't want Meriel to take Mealla, because she was his child. She already had two of them, she couldn't be given the third. It wasn't anything personal on Mell's behalf or prophetic in the least. It was just a father not wanting to have his last child taken from him.   
  
P.P.S.- What the hell is a 'Morgan's Moment'? That has been bugging me forever! What is it? Someone please tell me before I go *insane*!  
  
Disclaimer: Usual ones apply.   
  
Time: (Again) 9 Years Later  
  
Place: Still Somewhere in Northern Ireland  
  
Ages: Mealla-14  
Bran-14  
Aiden-36  
Others- Who cares? They're not in this scene!   


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*Mealla's POV*   
  
I absolutely could not believe it. It was *finally* (after years upon years of waiting) my initiation. I was nearly giddy with the thought. All my years of studying and hard work and putting up with people telling me what to do and how to do it were almost done. I could finally study on my own, learn what I wanted to, use my magick the way_ I _dictated it.   
  
My father wanted me to join his coven. My answer to that was _hell no_. I intended to tell him tonight, after the ceremony. I knew he was going to be disappointed; he wanted me to take over after him. Be high priestess to the Kier coven, but I couldn't. It went against my natural morals and ethics.   
  
Kier was what the Council referred to as a 'dark' coven. (Funny thing is 'kier' actually means 'dark' in Celtic Gaelic.) Evil, wrong, whatever you want to call it. Point blank, they practiced arts that the Council had forbidden. Not that the Council knew they even existed. Kier was a secret coven. Totally and completely. Members were only brought in exclusively, unlike Amyranth and Turneval, who practically held up signs saying, "Hello! We practice the dark arts! Please turn us in!" Dipshits.   
  
Bran was shocked to say the least. Angry, too, but after a bit he seemed to accept it. Bran was my nearest and dearest friend, sometimes I would think we were more than that, but...Oh! I give up! Explaining our relationship was too hard for words. We were more than girlfriend and boyfriend, more than friends. Our relationship seemed to transcend all those labels and become just one shining, glorious_ thing.  
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I'd known Bran for years. He'd already had his initiation a few months back, so he didn't have anything to worry about. He understood me and what I wanted and I suppose, what I needed. I was a fighter by nature, but I am not one to go against a group as powerful as the Council. (At least they would be powerful if they would work as a team, instead of getting everybody else to do the work for them.) I was not about to live my life in secret. It was either going to be an open book, or it would not be happening.   
  
So I finished getting ready. When I was done I was wearing my black robe, my hair long and brushed out, and barefoot. My robe was something I'd gotten for my birthday last year from my da, made of some soft material. For just what it was used for it was cut rather extravagantly with a scooping neckline and a flowing bottom, tied with a silver cord around the waist.   
  
My violet eyes shone amidst all the darkness, and the red in my hair suddenly stood out sharply. I felt really magicky just then, sort of glowing and crackling with energy. Like lightning. Yes, I would be strong and tell my father to shove it up his ass. Then maybe later I could sneak off and see Bran for a bit. Our parents seemed to be limiting our interaction lately. I would say a few choice words about now, but that's not lady-like.   
  
I shook my head and started off downstairs, trying to quell the nervous butterflies in my stomach. Bran had said there was nothing to it, I reminded myself. When I got onto the first floor I automatically knew that I was the only person in the house. My father's vibrations- intense, commanding, and abrupt- were not inside the house. I looked outside the window, saw a few familiar vehicles, and knew they were all back in the woods, out by the cliffside.   
  
That was where we held most of our circles, except for the occasional one held at somebody else's house. But if we wanted a powerful circle we went to the woods. That area held intoxicating, mind-numbing magick in it. It was wonderful for spell-casting and healing. Not so much meditation though. It wasn't a peaceful place. More angry and intense, like my da.   
  
I walked through the crisp woods, feeling wrapped in their protection, and followed a line of juniper plants. Their scent was heady, permeating the air, but I could still make out the smell of burning wick and incense carried on the breeze. Through a break in the foliage I could see nearly thirty people gathered 'round the altar. Tiki torches lit the area, allowing me to see my father standing with his backside to the cliff and the waters. For a moment he looked dark and terrifying, but I shook it off as only my imagination.   
  
I stepped into the clearing and heads swivelled to stare at me. I was a bit unnerved. I mean, was there something wrong with me? Was I in a zoo on display? I saw Bran standing to my right, looking quite gorgey in his robe, which was a beautiful silver-grey color, like that of a wolf. Although I knew that the wolf was not his form when he was changed.   
  
No, he was a different type of predator. He was a leopard- a snow leopard to be exact. Myself, I was a leopard too, but a different type. I was a black panther. We were now at that point in our lives where we had spent so much time in animal form that we no longer needed to use the spell. We could will the change to ourselves. Now I know that was another Council no-no, but give me a break! I grew up in *this* coven- what do you expect?!  
  
He smiled at me as I moved past, and I knew what he was saying just by that. He was telling me to relax, that everything would be just fine. I thanked the Goddess for sending me Bran, one who knew and loved me just the way I was. I smiled back at him and nodded my head slightly.   
  
Slowly I made my way up to the altar, which was really just three thick slabs of obsidian put together. I saw out of the corner of my eye Lanen McDougal, circling us with his wand as his wife, Claudette McDougal, sprinkled salt around us to purify the circle.   
  
The McDougals were my second-favorite family next to Bran's. They were sweet and wise, totally at odds with the type of magick they practiced. Lanen was an old friend of da's back from college. He had gone on afterwards to study in France, where he had met Claudette, who was waitressing and lounge singing at the time. They soon had their wedding, which father attended, and came back here to live. I'd almost say they were the nicest people I'd ever met.   
  
I remembered one Saturday afternoon a few summers ago. I'd just popped over at the McDougal's home for an impromptu visit. They'd offered me tea, and sat and talked with me about different thing. My schooling, magick, philosophy, a great play that the entire coven had gone to see last week. Lanen went off to work on his car then, an old 1961 Impala, and Claudette started to garden. She offered me a pair of gloves and a small shovel, then set to work. It had been a most wondrous evening indeed.   
  
I focused on my father- his tall, imposing stature, the thick graying brown hair, his almost-black eyes- and began to listen as he started the circle and my initiation. He spoke in a loud, clear voice, beckoning us to the magick, to the Earth, to the Mother.   
  
Then he began to question me. Question after question, answer after answer. I found myself thinking that I wasn't nervous anymore. In fact I was quite...empty. There was no thought, no emotion involved, just instinct. There were no options, you answered regardless, whether you truly knew it or not.   
  
When he held up the athame and dared me to step forward I almost smiled. In my mind I found myself thinking,_ you arrogant fool. _I stepped forward and...nothing. It was like I passed right through it, into nothing. They were all just air, shadows, and I was real. I was true substance, true power, and they were nothing to me.   
  
After that everything was sort of anti-climatic. People clapped and cheered for me, smiling and happy. The circle was broken up and we went back to the house, where the celebration began. We drank and danced, laughed and shouted. While that went on I went upstairs and put on some real clothes. Street clothes. Just cut-off denim shorts and a yellow tank top. Who needed shoes in their own home?   
I was walking down the hall to return back to the party when someone swept me into a side hallway with an arm banded across my waist. I turned quickly and smiled. "Bran," I began in a mock-scathing voice, "You nearly scared me half to death!" I slapped his chest playfully. "Sorry," He said, even though he didn't sound sorry at all, or look it for that matter. He leaned in for a kiss, but made it brief since we didn't want anyone catching us.   
  
"You were great up there," He began with a smile, "I was so proud of you. You just marched up there and flew through it all like it was as easy as having afternoon tea." I was pleased by the compliment, but just modestly said, "Thank you." Nobody likes a bragger. "And you looked beautiful..." He murmured before he kissed me again. This time it was a bit longer, more involved, but when someone slammed a door downstairs we both jumped and broke apart.   
  
I was blushing because I'd gotten so jumpy over nothing. He wasn't. He was just smiling that little mischievious smile that meant he had something up his sleeve. "What is it?" I asked darkly. I didn't want to get in any trouble tonight. "Nothing, I just wanted to give you something." _You've already given me so much._ I wanted to say it, but I didn't. I didn't say it, I didn't send it, but I had a feeling he heard it somehow, because he leaned down and kissed me again, lingering, loving, heated.   
  
When we pulled away breathless he brought his hand out from behind his back and said a breathy 'tada.' In his hand was a jewelry box. Not small enough for a ring (thank the Goddess), not long enough for a bracelet. "Go ahead, open it." He encouraged with the look of an excited child on his face. Hesitantly I took the box from him and flipped the top. I gasped in shock and wonder.   
  
In it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I'd ever seen. It wasn't heavily laden with jewels, wasn't carved extravagantly, wasn't brightly colored. It was simple, plain even, but so beautiful and artistic in its simplicity. Delicate gold links formed a thin chain, and on it dangled a golden heart locket. I noticed it had been done custom because you could only get an engraved pentacle in something by getting it custom. Inside the locket there was a small poem, metaphorically speaking about love. On the other side was an inscription which said 'To Mell. Love always, Bran.' I just about melted onto the carpet.   
  
"Oh Bran, it's beautiful." I said, turning up wide eyes at him. "No," He murmured, stepping close and grabbing the necklace, "You are." He clasped it around my neck and stepped back again. I felt so full of emotion I was scared to speak for fear that I would say something terribly mushy and romantic and corny and...well you get the picture. So I just stared at him, into his beautiful stormy gray eyes, and tried to tell him without words how much he meant to me.   
  
"Mealla!" I heard my father call up the stairs, "Are you coming down?" Snapping out of my stupor I called back, "Yeah, da! In a minute!" To Bran I murmured, "Sorry, hun. Gotta go." He looked at me and smiled. "I know." I spun around and went downstairs, sort of mad, sort of grateful for the interruption. I knew that if allowed, I would've stayed like that all night.   
  
On my way I grabbed a huge goblet of wine and slammed it down. Social functions always made me like that. I had to be under the influence of something or I couldn't deal. I've been thinking about getting tested for SAD. (Social Anxiety Disorder.)   
  
Later on we said ta to everybody, including Bran, who had asked my father if he could spend the night and been terribly rejected. Only Bran would actually have the audacity to do that. It's one of the things I loved about him...and hated. After they all split I got stuck with garbage pick-up duty. My da got to wash the fucking dishes and take care of the food. Damn him!   
  
Thirty minutes and two garbage bags later I was done. (We had a big house.) On my way back into the kitchen my father stopped me. Apparently he was done with the dishes. "Did you have fun tonight?" He asked with a deceptively warm smile. I flashed my own smile and said, "Yes, Daddy," even though I hadn't had that much fun. I would've rather spent the eve with Bran. Of course, what I want didn't matter. Ever.   
  
"So sweetie, are you excited?" My father asked. He was asking a lot of questions tonight. I didn't like that. I was clueless as to what I was supposed to be excited about, so I said, "About what?"  
  
"About your Initiation! Now you can officially join the coven and in a few years you can take over as high priestess!" He was smiling broadly by the time he finished saying this. I wasn't.   
  
"Dad," I began carefully; it was now or never, "At this time in my life, I don't feel that Kier is the best place for me to be." As I said these words his face clouded over with the beginnings of anger. "I mean, I'm new to all of this. I don't want to be doing anything illegal just yet." Okay, so I was trying to spare his feelings. Argue the voice of reason. I didn't want him to get all pissy at me.   
  
He looked at me with this strange expression on his face. "You are your mother's child. Even after all these years...she still has a stronger hold on you than I do." It sounded like he was disappointed...or maybe sad? Suddenly he looked me in the eye. "Honey, you know that I love you, but after this I just...You can't be trusted. You know our secrecy is everything to us. So, I'm sorry, but you cannot live anymore."   
  
I was confused. What did he mean, was he going to...? Just then I sensed his power build and he started making sigils in the air. One for speed, another for death, one more for silence. Quickly I built up my power and started counteracting the sigils with ones of my own. For protection, life, joy, happiness, and longevity. I built these into a wall, a fortress without windows or doors in my mind with me locked away in the center. I visualized it in my mind and knew it was happening. I was counteracting my father's spell.   
  
He started throwing witch fire at me in the form of small circles about the size of golf balls. They brushed off of me like air, doing no harm to me at all, and dissipating back to wherever they came from. For a second I felt a crack in my shield, but quickly patched it up. My agility was starting to fail me, I couldn't keep this up for much longer. I had to get out of there. Stumbling, I groped for the car keys to the Lexus and ran. I felt my father moving after me, like some dark cloud. I saw my feet moving in and out of my view first on wood, then on cement, then I was in the car.   
  
The keys were in the ignition before I knew it and soon I was gone. I know I wasn't supposed to be driving. Some law about being sixteen...pfh. Whatever. I kept driving until I was on route 17. With a shock I realized I was going to Bran's house. Bran?! What was he going to do for me? How could he help? He'd already accepted position within the coven. Oh, well, I thought with a mental shrug, what can it hurt? So I sent him a witch message. Think of it like a mental AIM.   
  
*Bran? Bran!?* I didn't mean to come off so panicked, but hey, I was.   
  
*Mell? What's the matter?* His mental voice was alert, like he'd been up and thinking.   
  
*I need help,* I cried desperately. I felt his sorrow even before he said anything.   
  
*Oh Maella...Does this have to do with refusing the coven position?*   
  
*You know it does. Don't even fake it.* There was a thread of anger to my mind-voice. It was better than panic.   
  
*...I can't help you. You know that Mell. Once the coven leader has declared someone to be our enemy, that's it. I'd be jeopardizing my own posititon within the coven. I just can't do that.* His mind-voice was filled with such sorrow it was unbearable. Sorrow and loss.   
  
Bran spoke again before I could say anything. *But I mean, he's your father. He's not going to do anything permanently harmful to you.*   
  
*Bran,* I began patiently, *He tried to kill me. He used runes for speed, silence, and death. He was trying to kill me on the spot. I just barely got out.*   
  
I felt him weighing this, felt him decide, and I felt a part of my heart break. I'd always known it would come to this. My best friend and rival was choosing his power over me.   
  
*I can't Mell. From now on...you're our enemy.*   
  
Sad, disappointed, and pissed off, I broke the connection and locked him out just in case. I pulled back onto the road with dry eyes. I would not cry. I would _never_ cry. To give them even that little of a victory over me would be too much.   
  
Where was I going to go? All the people that I ever knew were in the coven, and they were now *all* my enemies. Potential threats.   
  
  
What about your mother? Don't you know her? Part of me asked. Yes, I thought, pleased with my own idea. After making it out far enough that no one would sense me I pulled into an old gas station and sat there on park with the engine still running. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out one of the dearest things I own.   
  
I stared at the worn, crinkled photograph, old and outdated, but it would do. I just needed it for a moment. Clutching it tightly in one hand I used the other to adjust the rearview mirror so I could see myself. Almost automatically I fell into meditation. I pictured my mother just as she was in the photograph, waking me up early Sunday morning for chocolate chip pancakes and cinnamon-sugar toast. The scene appeared in the mirror, then I thought, _show me my mother *now.*_   
The scene changed into one where she was sitting at a dressing table, brushing out her now-shoulder length, layered hair. There was a deep blue motiffed bed behind her and on it was a man, still fully dressed with dusky blond hair and cornflower blue eyes. He looked about thirty something.   
  
Suddenly Meriel's eyes flashed up to look in the mirror and those electric blue eyes widened for a moment. "Maella..." She breathed. "What?" The man behind her asked questioningly. She ignored him and focused on the mirror. "Maella...my child..."   
  
I was running out of energy fast. With the spells performed earlier and with now I was tired. I couldn't do that much magick that rapidly. I figured I had enough time to say a few words. "Mom...help," I ground out desperately between clenched teeth. I could feel someone swiping at the psychic 'nothing-bubble' I'd put up. "Witch message." With those words I broke the connection.   
  
I let my head droop against the seat. I realized that I was sweating hard. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain, and looked down at my hands. My nails had accidentally pierced the skin, I'd clenched my hands so tight.Tiny red droplets welled in the palms of my hands, staying there like some dark stain. At least that's what it looked like at night. For some reason the sight of blood pleased me, like it represented how I was feeling inside.   
  
I had to get going. I had to move. Staying put would get you killed. I had to keep going. I pulled back onto the highway and started away from there. Blood was smeared on the nice, leather-covered steering wheel. I didn't care. I just cared about getting away.   
  
*Maella?* A voice said, reaching out to me, a tentative brush of the mind.   
  
*Mom? Mom, is that you??* Again I was panicked. And exuberant, strangely enough.   
  
*Yes, baby, it's me. What's wrong, honey?* Her voice was soothing like water running over stone.  
  
*Dad, he-* I broke off. The thought was too painful, but I had to get it out there. *He tried to kill me. He's after me!* The last came out strained and scared.   
  
*Where are you?* She asked immediately. I knew she would help. I knew she would.  
  
*Route 17.*   
  
*Okay, listen very carefully. I want you to take that until you hit highway 374. Take that all the way down the coastline past Deer Knoll, and into Laramy's Kiln. The address is 1782 Redbrick Lane. I'll set up a signal beacon. Just put out your senses for it. I'll be waiting.*   
  
*That'll take me a few hours.* I said, apprehensive about being on the road for so long.   
  
*I know. You'll be fine.* I felt the undercurrent of unsureness in that last remark.   
  
*Okay. See you when I get there.* We broke off the connection, and despite my exhaustion and fear, I was still sort of glad. I was going to see my mom again. After umpteenmillion years... What would it be like? Would my brothers be there? Who was that man?   
  
I shrugged it all off and decided to deal with that when I came to it. I had too much to deal with as it was. So I drove. For hours and hours I drove. My eyelids were drooping by the time I saw the sign that said, "Welcome to Laramy's Kiln."   
  
I cast out my senses and felt a tug ahead of me. So I went straight. I bypassed almost the whole town by the time the tugging switched and went left. So I turned left. Then straight for a few blocks. Then right. I was on Redbrick Lane. My magesight had long kicked in (there is a god!) enabling me to actually read the sign. Numbers flew by, until I reached a cul de sac. At the end of the cul de sac was a very large house that said '1782.'   
  
Pulling into the driveway, I cut the ignition. As I got out, the front door flung open and a woman came flying outside. Meriel stopped in front of the Lexus, breathing hard. The face was the same except for a few wrinkles. There were a few threads of grey running through otherwise-flawless red hair. We both looked at each other. There was complete silence.   
  
Suddenly a cool breeze whipped past us and I shivered. It was then I realized that I was still in only shorts and a tank top, and barefoot. No wonder my feet were cold. Suddenly I started laughing. Hysterical laughter that only comes when you're in a crisis.   
  
"What? What is it?" My mother (!) asked curiously.   
  
Between bouts of insane laughter I managed to get out, "I just realized-I've been driving all this way-with no shoes on!!"   
  
We locked eyes, then she started laughing too.   
  
And that was how I spent my first night with my mother in nine years. Laughing hysterically.   
_____________  
AN: Well, that's it for this chapter. There's more though! This is *not* the end. I hope you liked it. God, it took me forever to write this. Um...the next part will probably be in Maella's POV too, unless I do 3rd person and have it Maella-centered. Um..it depends on what mood I'm in. Please review. Don't make me beg. = (  
  
AAN: A 'nothing-bubble' is an idea that I got from another book series called the Black Jewels Trilogy. Only slightly modified. Here it's like putting up a shield that sends out the message, 'There's nothing here. Move on. Just emptiness...etc., etc.' That sort of thing. I think you get the point. Basically it's designed to subtly blank a person's mind on whatever it is their psychically inspecting, in this case, Maella.   



	4. Spaz

Family Reunion: What A Bitch   
Chapter 4   
By: Killing Frost   
  
AN: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, however few they were. I really enjoyed reading them. And again, thanks. This time its for telling me what a Morgan's Moment is. (Sounds humorous, but if we all took a shot every time Morgan cried, we would all be alcoholics _majorly_ by now.) Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, after months of working on it.   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sweep series, or any such devices from that. However, I do own the new characters and settings and such that I am introducing, so please, be courteous, and do not steal them. If you wish to use them for future stories, contact me at _Killing_Frost@sailorsaturn.zzn.com. _   
  
WARNING: _MATURE THEMES CONTAINED WITHIN! DON'T READ IT IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT! _   
  
Time: 2 Years Later   
  
Place: Laramy's Kiln, Ireland   
  
Ages:   
Cait- 6   
Maella- 17   
Blaine- 18   
Liam- 20   
Rian- 32   
Meriel- 33   
  
*Maella's POV*   
~The Blue Moon~ (A dance club)   
  
Three years ago, I had come here, newly initiated, just a bird on its first flight out of the nest. Then, the magick was enough to make me fly, it was still exciting and new, full of fresh possibilities and new horizons. Now, three years later, I have other ways to fly.   
  
After seven months of misery in Laramy's Kiln, my brother Liam had finally convinced me to come out partying with him. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I had dressed in an old spandex mini-skirt of mom's, really it was more like an elastic band that just covered my ass. It was bright teal too, oh yippie! To go with the skirt, I wore a skimpy lace top and halter underneath it. My hair had been whisked back into a messy bun, and the stilettos on my feet were excruciating.   
  
Blaine had glanced disdainfully at me and shook his head. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. I just laughed and left with my other brother as my escort. He took me to the Blue Moon, the very club which I sit at now, drinking a dry gin and tonic. I'd been disoriented and scared of all the happily miserable people there, but soon, after Liam had walked off to dance with some ditz, and a strange guy I didn't know had gotten me to try a little ecstasy, I enjoyed myself.   
  
The drug dealer and I hit it off famously. He, who was also as high as a kite, danced with me all night, and said sweet things to me which were so tempting I couldn't resist. He became my first victim. Liam never found out, for he too had gone off with someone, leaving me alone at The Blue Moon, forgetting about me. Again, it wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last.   
  
So sitting here at the bar wasn't exactly my goal in mind. No, tonight I had the urge to fly. Magick just simply wasn't enough anymore. It had lost its sparkle, its mystery to me. My mother had been disappointed when I'd refused to continue my studies with her. So I sat and looked pretty, danced provocatively and seductively, and played the twit, while all the time, I was looking for my airline ticket.   
  
Finally I saw him.   
  
Slowly I sauntered up to him, doing my best to act natural, but be noticeable. Let me tell you, that's difficult. He noticed me though, as intended, and smiled in familiarity. His--were they hazel?--eyes glittered queerly underneath the neon lights, and for a second he looked terrifying. Of course he was, I berated myself. I already knew he was scary. After all, he was my drug dealer.   
  
I took my time getting to him, never hurrying, never rushing, letting his gaze travel down my body and knowing that in his mind, he was remembering what I looked like underneath the scant clothing I wore tonight.   
  
"Ella," He said in greeting once I got up to him. He called me 'Ella' for that's what they knew me as here, and in all of my other haunts. Using my real name would be like asking for a stalker.   
  
"Jorge," I replied with a sinuous smile, "How are you?"   
  
"You know me."   
  
"Yes, I do. So you're still a little weasel then?" I asked with a teasing smile and voice, even though in my mind, I knew I was serious.   
  
"Ah, and you must still be a little vixen then?" He responded in kind with a smile of his own, although his was insinuating, knowing.   
  
"I try," I said with a shrug.   
  
"Well then, you must come have a drink with me at my table." That was the cue. He ordered a martini for himself, and a glass of Merlot for me. When we were seated down in a secluded corner all was silence, and I knew that Jorge was thinking. Always a bad sign.   
  
"You know, have I ever told you that you remind me of wine?"   
  
Uh-oh. Where was this going? "No, you haven't. Do I really?"   
  
"Yes. It tastes so sweet and utterly sublime going down your throat, but once its gone, it leaves a burning aftertaste." Jorge twiddled with the stem of his martini glass, turning it about until the olive was pointing at me like a finger.   
  
"I want payment first," He said abruptly.   
  
"No. You know the deal, goods first, then payment." I said back at him, my voice still smooth and neutral, but I was shocked on the inside. He didn't really expect me to agree, did he?   
  
"I'll show them to you, and you can test them, but I want payment first."   
  
What was he up to? I know however, that I had to agree. Jorge was in one of his moods, and once he had set his mind to something, there was no talking him out of it. "Fine." And that was it. He paid the bill for our drinks. (Such a gentlemen...)   
  
Outside in the parking lot, I was careful not to look at my car, fearful that he might see the license plate. Jorge opened the trunk to his car and lifted the floorboard, from there he pulled out a small, nondescript, paper bag. "It's all in there," He said as reassurance. Just to be sure I counted.   
  
Ten grams of coke packaged tightly, a small bottle of the drug called EXT, and a brown vial. I opened it and smelled inside, and sure enough, it was genuine heroin. "Do you approve?" Jorge asked lightly. "Yeah," I said faintly, and even fainter, "yeah." He took the bag and stuffed it inside of his coat, slamming the trunk shut, and he unlocked the passenger door for me. Time for payment.   
  
Jorge drove me to an anywhere-Motel, where you could come and be unknown, and leave the same way. He'd rented the Honeymoon Suite. Why, was beyond me. I suppose because it had a nicer bed and a hot tub, not that I'd be sticking around to try it out. The second we got in the door he was all over me. He must've been fighting with his girlfriend again.   
  
Clothes flew everywhere, and shoes lay discarded on the floor. His hands, his mouth, were everywhere at once, touching, teasing, tasting. Needy. Dishwater blond hair, once spiked up, now in disarray, kept reminding me of where I was, and I used that. That, and his slender hands with nimble fingers, used to doing such things as rolling a joint, and his--they were hazel--eyes, and the broad body, not very muscled. I used him to push away the memories of another's hands on my body, another's lips on mine. I used him as he used me, and when it was over, the rush gone, the flight ended, the exultation just a sham, I wanted to cry.   
  
Roughly I pushed him off of me, but so satisfied in himself, he was, that he didn't care. I stood up, and found his jacket--the same jacket he'd had since I'd met him three years ago--and took the items which I'd paid for with my own body. I walked into the bathroom and cleaned myself up as good and as fast as I could, then walked around collecting my clothes. Out in the main room I was aware of Jorge's eyes following me wherever I went, lingering wherever was not appropriate.   
  
I left as soon as I was dressed, and walked all the way back to the Blue Moon. It wasn't that far. Maybe a mile and a half. Still, I was sweating by the time I got back to the parking lot and my feet ached from walking all that way in four inch heels. I was used to it, and I enjoyed the sweet pangs of my body which signalled that I was still alive.   
  
My cheap little Toyota was waiting for me faithfully, and I sighed with relief when I sat down on its cushy seat. From the small paper bag I withdrew the package of coke, and made a little hole in its corner. Spilling it out onto a pad of paper I had in my car, I snorted it gratefully, relieved to finally get the fix I'd been desiring all day. I stuck a small bit of sellotape over the hole, and put it back in the bag, which I then placed with reverence underneath the passenger seat.   
  
With my brain feeling super-charged, and clear-headed, I finally began to feel ready to go home, and did so slowly, taking my time getting there. By the time I pulled into the driveway it was 2:17 in the morning, and I was extra-quiet going upstairs, but when I shut the door to my room and turned on the light, boy, was I surprised.   
  
"Ah!" I screeched involuntarily. Stomping up to my bed, I snatched that damn necklace from where it lay and tried crushing it in my hand. However, I am not one who can bend metal with their bare hands. When I opened my palm again, I glared at the cursed little heart, while it shone its golden surface at me mockingly. "How did you get out in the open again? I thought I hid you..." I murmured, "Oh well, this time, it'll be for good."   
  
I walked over to my closet and dug inside, tossing out shoes, clothes, and other miscellaneous junk as I searched for it. Finally I found the loose floorboard, and pried it up, breaking a nail in the process. Locking that evil necklace away, I murmured a spell of concealment over it, then wiped my hand on my pants like I'd touched something slimy. Truth was, I could still feel it. Feel the vibrations of love and warmth and happiness that Bran had instilled in the locket before he gave it to me.   
  
I knew that if I wanted to truly be rid of it I should just melt it or something. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I didn't want to. Curses. Curse that damn locket, curse him, curse Kier!   
  
Burying my head underneath a pile of clothes, I screamed, harshly. It said more adequately than words what I was feeling. There went my perfect ending to a perfect day. I stumbled into bed for a few hours of broken, restless sleep before starting another day with no end. Hopefully this one would turn out perfectly.   
  
*Meriel's POV*   
  
I knew the instant that Maella got back. The vibrations in the house changed from sleepy and contented to alive, vibrant, and upset. I shook my head and wished again that I had the will to be more forceful with the girl. I didn't though, and Maella completely disregarded any authority that Rian might have over her.   
  
I traced the face of my dear, sweet sister on the old, worn photograph. I hoped that in death she had gotten the peace she truly deserved. Such a hard life for someone so young...Not that mine had been easy, mind you. It was just, there were different flavors of hard, different levels of difficulty I guess. Sort of like a video game.   
  
Maeve had deserved so much better than the world had given her. Finally, after years of searching, investigating, and questioning, did I finally have the full story. After I left the dark wave came to Belwicket, leaving it a barren wasteland. Maeve and Angus had somehow escaped and gone to New York, where they worked hard for their house in the country. Giving up magick, they led a simple life, until Ciaran came and took that from them.   
  
I also learned of Maeve's daughter, whom she had named Morgan. The adoption agency had been kind enough to provide me with the name of the family that had adopted her. Rowlands. I was working on finding out if the Rowlandses still lived near New York, and contacting the last member of my family. After all, family is a very important part of life.   


* * *

  
  
AN: Next time, hopefully we'll get into Morgan's POV, and more Maella, The Messed Up Child. Don't forget to review! ^_^   
  
  



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